Not Just A Car
by agent iz hyper
Summary: Sammy may or may not be slightly drunk. He also may or may not be having a slightly one-sided convo with the Impala. He's fully justified, though – Gabriel had fused them together for a while there. It had been an enlightening experience, really, being their car... / Posted up for the Impala's birthday... and mine, ha.


**Not Just A Car**

**Summary:** Sammy may or may not be slightly drunk. He also may or may not be having a slightly one-sided convo with the Impala. He's fully justified, though – Gabriel had fused them together for a few minutes! It was an enlightening experience, really, being their car. / "Y'know, I've given Dean lotsa grief over you, but really…" he leaned in closer to the glossy dark hood – made easier by the fact that he was using the car to brace himself upright anyway – to whisper conspiratorially, "you're not so bad." / Mindless humor here – brought up by the 'Changing Channels' episode as well as all those freaking hilarious fics 'bout the 'pala turning human.

**Disclaimers:** It's my birthday... so I'm entitled to own whatever I want. *crosses arms stubbornly* Deano and his kickass pointy eyebrow of doom, is all mine. So's Sammy with his bangs falling all over his face with the irresistible puppy eyes. And the Impala's Dean's baby, so she comes too. And Cas with his trenchcoat and awesomesauce sarcasm skills, complete with air quotes and all. (And Ruby's jetpack.) ;) You can read the story now. ^^

**x-x-x-x**

The drink tipped out of the bottle in his hand, slowly, slowly, until it stopped – barely a single drop coming out even when he tilted it over completely. Sam frowned and pulled the bottle away to peer at it and then shake it from side to side.

Oh. It seemed empty.

Sam sighed and dropped his hand, his head hanging low with it, hair curtaining his face. He wasn't exactly sure what it had been in the bottle, or the one before it… or the few before that either… but it was strong and left a pleasant burning sensation as it poured down his throat and he'd really liked it. Even if it did make the world go loopy.

Maybe he was the one going loopy.

Sam snorted. Dean would agree with that. Strongly.

He sucked in a big breath before discarding the definitely empty glass bottle and reaching up with his now-free hand to latch onto the nearest stable surface and pull himself to his feet. The empty parking lot definitely swam this time – he was sure of it. But that made no sense. He wasn't underwater, was he? Pretty sure he can't breathe under water… right?

Sam narrowed his eyes accusingly at the bottles littering the ground at his feet – and said ground was a lot further than it should have been. Hey, maybe he got taller… Dean would just love that, his Sasquatch-sized little brother getting even more Sasquatchian. Was that a word? Could be…

Maybe… maybe his drink was spiked.

Or the Trickster was having fun at his expense again. The Archangel – Gabriel. Because he'd really seemed to enjoy putting Sam in uncomfortable situations.

Or maybe…

Sam stared down even harder at the bottles. He _knew_ this. It was right there, he just couldn't seem to-

"I'm drunk!" he finally announced out loud, spreading his arms wide as he grinned up at the resounding silent night.

Yes, he was aware that nobody was there to hear him. Of course he was. But no_body_ didn't mean no_thing_.

Sam let the grin spread over his face as he turned from the front of their current desolate motel room to march – somewhat sloppily – towards the sole car in the parking. He may or may not have stumbled the last few steps and face-planted into the car's solid side, painfully. Fact of matter is, he reached his destination and was now using it to prop himself up before the gravel ground decided the meet his face too. It wasn't a pleasant thought. The car's exterior was a much more satisfying place to face-plant than the filthy floor, and he patted the top gratefully.

"Thanks, dude," Sam nodded happily, leaving his hand where it was and leaning forward to rest his weight on it. He paused, though, eyebrows pulling together in a bemused fashion, and pulled back again to study the car critically.

"You're not a dude, though… are you?" he said dubiously, eyeing the Impala's glossy black-as-night metal. "Cuz, y'know, Dean always calls you his baby, and…" he paused to narrow his eyes in what was supposed to be a considering way. "You kinda look like a chick," he eventually declared.

How could a car look like a chick? He didn't really know, but it seemed right. 'Sides, Dean always insisted she was a _she_ and since when did Dean get anything wrong about his beloved car? Sam nodded, resolute now – he must be right.

He maneuvered his way around to the front of the car then to perch on the hood contentedly, eyes sliding hazily down over the windscreen and then out into the night. His hand dropped onto the black hood top and patted it a couple of times, lips curling up at the familiarity of their car – their _home_, practically. Sam turned his gaze back towards it – half-twisting so he could see it properly and just managing not to slide off in the process, though it was a close call – and acknowledged in his drink-slurred tone "You're a…an ah…an _awesome_ car."

A wide, somewhat sloppy grin pulled at his lips as he added with a convincing nod and all the assured certainty of an extremely solemn man, "I should know, y'know. I was… you… or in you… or somethin'…" he mumbled off, frowning adorably as his hazy mind attempted to make sense of his thoughts of _being the Impala_. Was he _in_ the Impala? Or was he her-_it_? Sam snorted with laughter.

"That's just dirty," he informed the unresponsive car, twisting his face into a grimace. Or a bitchface, if you wanted to use Dean's word. "Y'got it allllll easy, dude," he continued, waving a hand to emphasise the _all_ and very nearly toppling right off the hood. He stopped, forehead creasing in a frown again as he shot a look towards the Impala. "Dude…ette?" he tried futilely, testing the word out. "Dudette… right? Cuz… dude's a guy and… you're not." He snickered then. "'Magine Dean's face if I start callin' you _baby_. He'll… Dean… he'll… flip!" And then Sam _did_ slip off, thanks to more dramatic hand-waving. Kissing dirt twice in less than half an hour must be some sort of feat unaccomplished by mankind before, he gathered. Then lay there wondering if that meant it should be something he's proud of achieving.

Whether it was or not, Sam decided he really did not like the filthy ground, and braced himself before pushing up and rolling over to lean back against the Impala's passenger door. He let his head drop back against it with a sigh – getting up seemed like too much trouble now, especially when the last time he'd pulled himself up the world had threatened to use gravity against him and keep him firmly grounded. Face-first, too.

The world was cruel.

"Th'world's cruel," he mumbled half-heartedly to his silent companion. The lack of response didn't bother him; he knew the Impala was listening. She was good at that sorta stuff. Dean always said so, and Dean was always right, 'cause he was the big brother…

Sam grinned vaguely and pulled himself up a little bit, rapping his knuckled lightly against the cool metal beside him. The Impala was reliable, Dean always said that too. "Y'know, I've given Dean lotsa grief over you, but really…" he leaned in closer to the glossy side – made easier by the fact that he was using the car to brace himself upright anyway – to whisper conspiratorially, "you're not so bad." He was dimly aware of the sound of approaching footsteps before a voice rang out near him – one part perplexed and concerned, three parts plain amused, and all parts familiar.

"Dude, are you- are you _snuggling_ against my baby?"

Sam huffed at the uninvited invasion and turned his head to glare up at his brother, going for _put out_ but ending up more with _pouty_. Close enough. "_No_, Dean," he said slowly in his tone that implied _'don't be such an idiot_', before dropping his head back down on the metal. "'Pala's nice," he added after a moment, as though that explained it all.

Dean moved closer, definitely amused now, and crouched down so he was at eye level with his brother – whose eyes were already half sliding shut anyway. "Right," he confirmed with a nod, not bothering to keep the grin from sliding onto his face. "_The Impala's nice_. That really explains why you're out here at midnight having a heart-to-heart with my car."

"_Dude_," Sam huffed again – not _whined_, he certainly did not _whine_, even if he may or may not have been too drunk to notice anyway – shifting around so that glaring at his brother petulantly wasn't such a troublesome feat. "No-one'nvited you," he informed him languidly, the words running together as his energy and high was clearly running out.

"That hurts, Sammy, really," Dean said dryly. "You're piss drunk, aren't you?"

"Nooo," was the definitely _not_-drunk reply. A beat passed by. Dean cocked an eyebrow smoothly. Sam scowled and dropped his eyes to study the totally fascinating floor which his face was so interested in meeting. He mumbled a "maybe a little bit?"

Dean snorted and shook his head, then glanced behind at the half-dozen bottles littering the motel entrance. "Little bit my ass." He grinned and clasped his brother on the shoulder bracingly. "Alright, c'mon Sammy. You're not sleeping out here with the car, dude."

"But she's _awesome_," his younger brother protested slurringly and Dean snorted again. _Oh man, all the blackmail material…_

"Yeah, got that already, bro. You can see her in the morning," he told him with as much seriousness as he could manage in this situation. "You know, if the awesome hangover you're gunna wake up to lets you remember any of this." He grinned at Sam. Blank hazel eyes blinked at him. Dean rolled his own eyes and tugged at Sam's arm. "Come on, man. Let's go inside, yeah?"

Sam mumbled something incomprehensible under his breath – Dean caught the words 'car' and 'awesome' again, and smirked. Looks like Sammy being the Impala for a while there – thanks to Gabriel – had been a true bonding experience for his little brother and his baby. He got to his feet and held out a hand to help Sam out.

The currently inebriated Winchester stared at the hand incomprehensibly for a few seconds, then turned his gaze down to his own hand, and back again. Dean could've sworn he could literally see the dots connecting in his brother's head the moment his mouth opened in a silent _'oh'_ and he gripped his older brother's hand. He pulled Sam up, switching his hold to Sammy's forearm instead as his brother stumbled, unsteady.

Sam frowned as he looked back at the Impala, sitting there solo in the soft moonlight. He turned to his brother, eyes widening. "We gunna _leave_ her there?"

Dean resisted the urge to facepalm. He tugged Sam along with an exasperated, "Dude, she's a _car_. We can't take the Impala into the motel room." He shot Sam an amused grin. "Jeez, and I thought you were the smart one."

Sam either didn't hear his last comment or he heard it but didn't register its meaning. His eyes were narrowed as he thought Dean's words over, stumbling along behind his big brother. As they stepped into the motel, Sam eventually said, "The'pala is-"

"Awesome, I know, Sammy," Dean finished off with a chuckle. He pushed his brother carefully onto his bed, making him lie down when he tried to get back up. Sam sighed and relented, sinking into the comfortable – for once – bed, eyes already sliding shut as Dean threw the blanket on him. He grinned in amusement as Sam practically snuggled happily into his pillow, looking for all the world like the innocent five-year-old he had once been. Pushing aside the pang of wistfulness, Dean turned back to get the door which was still hanging open behind them.

He paused at the doorway and gazed out at the second-most important thing in his life. She sat, glinting in the light of the half-moon and cheap street lights, still and silent, but always _there_, always dependable. The Impala was Dean's baby, there was no doubt about it; she was the only thing – and he meant, the _only thing_ – he'd always, _always_ been able to rely on to be there. She wasn't going anywhere, and he'll be damned if _he_ ever went anywhere without her. Everyone in Dean's life had up and left at some point – Mom had made that deal and died for it, Dad had given up his own life to save Dean's, and Sammy… well, Sam had left him on numerous occasions.

Didn't mean that made Dean's little brother any less trustworthy – in being there for him and watching his back, anyway – but it was just a fact that his car, his only actual home, was the one thing that remained a constant.

And for that, at least, Dean was grateful. Because the Impala wasn't just a car. She wasn't even just _Dean's baby_. She was just about the essence of everything that made this – facing angels and demons and the damn Apocalypse – bearable. She was the epitome of what it meant to stick together, being a family and having each other's backs. Because this car… This car had been with them from the start – from before then, even. She held more memories of their childhoods – hell, their _lives_, period – than any other place or person did. Memories of mucking around in the backseat, bickering long enough to drive John mad, falling asleep on long trips with his baby brother tucked up against him and his dad's comforting presence and the car's soothing purr, the scenery flying past. He couldn't explain it, but the Impala… she was the _meaning_ of home.

For that reason alone, Dean wouldn't let anything touch or hurt his baby. Same as how he wouldn't let anything get his brother. If they did, they had about a three second warning before he ripped their lungs out from their chest and tied their limbs together and threw them to the hellhounds.

There was a reason that Gabriel was not his favourite angel. It wasn't just 'cause the guy was a dickhead from a messed-up douche-y family of dickheads, but because he'd messed with Sammy so damn much it stopped being funny the moment it started. And that last trick, freaking putting Sam into the Impala? Hell, that was not cool. In a way, though, Dean had been kind of relieved. It had meant that, until he found Gabriel (which, as he'd guessed, wasn't too hard to do) his brother and his car were just _one_ thing he had to worry about and take care of, and it had meant that Sam _wasn't_ lost somewhere he could get hurt.

Amidst the getting shot and the _Nut-cracker_ and freaking oh-so-hilarious sit-coms, the Knight Rider parody was the best one.

Which was saying something, even in their lives.

Dean shut the door softly and put up their standard protections – salt and Devil's traps and protective wards. He shot one last glance at his deeply-sleeping brother before turning in himself, entertainingly anticipating Sam's reaction in the morning once he remembered all the stuff he'd been spouting.

**x-x-x-x**

He wasn't disappointed.

Morning came. The sun shone into the room cheerfully, birds could be heard twittering outside the windows, the air drafting in filled the room with a pleasant fresh smell.

And Sam was miserable.

Upchucking again until his stomach felt like it was going to flip out on itself, Sam groaned desolately. His brother's obnoxious cheerfulness definitely wasn't helping.

"How's the hangover going?" Dean's voice rang out painfully sharp against his pounding head as he entered the motel room, placed the breakfast onto the table, and peered into the bathroom.

Sam flipped him off without raising his head, too busy trying to settle his protesting stomach to reply snarkily.

"All peachy, then? Great! 'Cause I got breakfast – uh, let's see, there's an awesome greasy quarter-pounder, with thick fatty beef and bacon and-"

"Shut up," Sam moaned, wrapping his arms around his stomach and leaning against the wall. He cracked his eyes open a bit to glare – or try to – at his smirking brother. "Y're such a jerk."

"And you're a hung-over bitch," Dean countered easily, before disappearing and returning a few moments later with a couple of aspirin for the headache and a bottle of water. He handed them over to Sam. "Get cleaned up, man, you stink."

"Thanks," Sam muttered, half-sarcastically, half not, as he swallowed down the pills and rinsed his mouth out at the sink. Dean watched for a moment to make sure his brother wasn't about to keel over and fall into his own vomit before, satisfied, going out of the bathroom again. Sam splashed water on his face and glanced up in the mirror, grimacing once he saw what a mess he was. He heard Dean rummaging in the room for something, then he was back at his side, this time handing over a towel and a set of clothes.

"You have a shower. I'll be outside, yeah?" Dean told him, and the underlying flicker of something in his tone made Sam look at him, eyebrows drawing together, puzzled. Dean shrugged. "Gotta check on the Impala, dude. I'm not convinced Gabriel didn't find a way to mess her up somehow."

"Oh. Right." Sam nodded, feeling something nagging at the back of his mind. He blinked. Dean was watching him carefully, and Sam could _tell_ he was a moment away from bursting into laughter, no matter how good of an actor his brother was, when he wanted to be. But why-

Oh crap.

The Impala.

The _Impala_.

Did he... oh shit...

Dean was sure he was going to injure himself if he contained his amusement any longer. Sam had remembered, he could tell straight away – the suddenly widened eyes and downright horrified expression were a bit of a giveaway.

Sam stared at him in horror. "I didn't... Did I?"

Dean let a smirk out and nodded. "Oh yeah, you totally did."

"..._Crap_," he groaned, shutting his eyes and letting his head drop back onto the tiled wall.

Dean snickered and nudged him. "Hey, it wasn't that bad. So you were having a bit of a... bonding moment with the car. With cuddling. And heart-felt confessions. And-"

"_Dude_!" Sam shot him a glare, but the way he said it sounded so much like last night that Dean couldn't help it – he cracked up.

"Dean!"

"Dude, you totally should've heard yourself," Dean laughed, shaking his head. "'_The 'pala's awesome_' and '_we gunna just leave her there?_' Really, Sammy, I never knew you loved my baby so much." He shot him a shit-eating grin.

Sam scowled and pushed past him, cheeks reddening, with a grumbled, "Believe me, I don't."

"Could've fooled me." Dean followed him out of the bathroom, neither the grin nor the amusement in his voice going away. "And you say _I_ overreact when I gotta leave her somewhere. Dude, if I wasn't there, you would've spent the night outside with your new BFF."

Sam blew out a breath in exasperation, bitchface-ing in the way that meant '_my big brother is so freaking annoying_'. He stopped and turned around with a half-hearted glare. "You gunna let this go?"

"Hell no!" Dean exclaimed, looking so scandalised at the suggestion that Sam felt like slamming his head into a brick wall. Repeatedly. Of course he had to be found in his smashed state, talking to the _car_, by his brother who took every embarrassing moment he could and twisted it into the worst forms of blackmail and ceaseless supply of jokes. Of course.

He was just lucky that way.

Whatever denials he told Dean, though, the Impala was almost as important to him too. She was their best – almost only – source of comfort and stability these days. And he wouldn't trade anything for her.

...Unless that _anything_ included getting his brother to shut up about his so-called new-found adoration towards the car.

**x-x-x-x**

**A/N: **Oh yeah. It's the Impala's birthday! :D 24th of April, people. (Also mine. ;) Ain't I a lucky one.) And it's Eric Kripke's birthday too. Awesomeness, yep. :P So I had to write this, of course, for our most favouritest car in the whole univere, cuz - in Sammy's words - the 'pala's awesome. And she needs back in. Now. *glares at producers* Sign the petition, peeps. Bring Back The Impala! ^^

Ohkay. Kudos to both **dodo.123** and **renae shnucumbs**, mah trusty awesome mates, for reading over this and assuring me that, yes, it is funny and not a total waste of time and hyper energy. Cuz I wrote that first part - up until Deano's appearance - while very hyper. On cookies n' cream ice cream! :D And then I finished it the next day, which is why it kinda went all bipolar. :P Cuz Deano was there. And whenever my mind mixes with Dean, it produces deep reflective shit like that. 'tis okay, though. She's his baby! xP

Well, this was fun writing. Drop me a review, yeah? (I'm sixteen today. O: Scary. *hides*) Favourite line? Favourite aspect of the Impala? ^^

~iz.


End file.
